


The drunk confessions of a Bard

by Dawntherabbit



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawntherabbit/pseuds/Dawntherabbit
Summary: Jaskier drinks little too much and tells Geralt how he really feels.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 210





	The drunk confessions of a Bard

"To tell you the truth, I don't think you know."

Jaskier was drunk, not normally drunk but beyond that. He had been downing pints all night. Let just say the week was rough. He ripped three silk shirts, broke a lute string, got monster guts directly in his mouth, and was so pent up he could burst. 

"What don't I know?" Geralt threw wood into the fire listening to it crackle. He watched his friend fall all over the room getting distracted with the curtains, then the soft bedsheets, until he finally plopped down right next to him. 

"That-that you..." he trailed off staring at the fire. Red flickering flames reflected in his face, the smell of drink wafting off of him. "You are beautiful." Jaskiers gaze went to his hair, down to his eyes, ultimately landing on his lips. 

Jaskier leaned forward as if to kiss him while Geralt leaned back and away from him.

Geralt shook his head amused. "You have had one too many."  
He helped his friend up to the bed making sure the path was clear.  
He was already tripping over his own feet didn't need to fall over a log. He kicked some leather out of the path. Then he finally pushed him over to land softly in the blankets.

He mumbled in protest when Geralt took his cup away placing it on the floor near the fire. 

"Come lay next to me so I may speak of your beauty." Jaskier slurred his words.

Geralt held back a smile sitting next to the bard. "Tell me of the guts that get lodged in my hair after a fight, what beauty I must hold." He snorted. "Or is it the jagged scars? Possibly the way I smell after 3 days in the swamps." 

Jaskier used his hands to talk, waving them wildly in the air while speaking.  
"Oh but your hair is the most beautiful." Jaskier reached up to stroke the strands between his fingers. "Like fine silk between my fingers, flowing in the sun, radiating silver. I would be so lucky to have it firmly in my hands--" Jaskier sat his body up leaning on the wall for support. Geralt kept him steady with fingertips pressing against his shoulders.

"You want to grasp my hair?" He said amused. 

"Did I say that?" Jaksier smiled wide his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

He looked around the room "Your hands!" He quickly said. "Strong enough to kill a beast but gentle enough to help a friend in need." Jaskier hiccuped. He scanned Geralts body looking for the next thing to compliment. 

"Your face!" He shouted with new found vigor jumping up to stand on the bed. "Who wouldn't fall in love with such a face!" He tripped, landing on the soft bed in a perfect sitting position. "With eyes as gold as the sun and lips so soft they begged to be kissed." He fell back into the pillow.

"Okay okay.. enough of that." He helped Jaskier get settled in the bed moving the pillow under his head properly. 

Jaskier reached up caressing his cheek. "I could sing about you for the rest of my life. I would never tire of it." Jasker looked down before meeting his eyes again "you could have me... all of me." 

Geralt paused. "What?" 

Jaskiers sure hands trailed down his own body. He unlaced the front of his shirt letting it fall, exposing the front of his torso. His hands continued down stopping to unlace his pants before Geralt stopped him from going any further. 

The light illuminated every line of his body in a glow of oranges and reds. Geralt's eyes were drawn to the orange curve of his hip, the red lines that trailed up and down his chest.  
Looking at Jaskier this way filled him with an odd mixture of guilt and want. How soft would he feel under his touch... how would he taste? 

"Jaskier we can't." Geralt forced his gaze away. "You are drowning in booze, I think it's time for sleep." He attempted to play off.

"We can, I see the way you look at me, the way you care for me. I know you feel what I feel. I know you do." He desperately explained. "I know everytime we're apart you crave me, doesn't it claw at you? Make you ache?" Jaskier rubbed his chest with one hand stopping when it reached his heart. 

It made Geralt pause. There was no lie in his voice, no hint of sarcasm. Every word he said rang true even in this altered state. He took a second to stare down at him. He watched his face shift from a smile to serious. Bright blue eyes looked at him with question, his mouth opened about to speak before Geralt cut him off. 

"Goodnight Jaskier," he said in a harsh tone emphasizing the finality of it all.

"Geralt." Jaskier sighed and rolled over. "Until tomorrow."


End file.
